


sorry for the mess (hey i don't mind)

by shallot



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 20:23:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21380053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shallot/pseuds/shallot
Summary: Dennis has good days and bad days.All he wants is for things to get easier. All Mac wants is to look after him.It takes Dennis a while to realise those two things are synonymous.
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Comments: 10
Kudos: 151





	sorry for the mess (hey i don't mind)

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first sunny work and i'm still getting the hang of characterisation here so pls be nice ! 
> 
> title song is from vance joy's mess is mine

There are days in which Dennis Reynolds just cannot bring himself to get out of bed and go to work.

Some days he feels so empty inside he might just float away if it weren’t for the weight of the duvet over him.

Some days he knows without looking in the mirror that he is the ugliest person in the world, and leaving the house is not an option.

Some days he feels so out of touch with reality that even thinking about moving his limbs in order to get out of bed means he’s greeted with a foggy brain and a headache.

Today is particularly bad, because he feels empty, ugly and spaced out all at the same time.

He knows that Mac has come to realise when these days are happening. Usually, they’ll get up within about half an hour of each other, taking turns in the shower, brushing their teeth together in front of the mirror, listening to whatever’s on the morning television and bantering silly comments back and forward, making a _lot _of coffee - they drink a mug at the kitchen table over breakfast, and then Mac decants the rest into the reusable cups he bought from the second hand shop after he’d been on a recent sustainability kick. Dennis doubts him drinking coffee from a reusable cup is really going to make a difference, but then again, he does like the feel of the hot glass against his hands.

On the bad days, they do none of their usual routine. Well, Mac does, but Dennis lies in bed and tries to burrow himself as far away from the world as he can possibly get. Mac will come to check on him, he always does.

Inevitably, Dennis hears the sound of his bedroom door creak open and Mac pads in, sits at the end of the bed. “Dennis?”

Dennis doesn’t want to look at him, doesn’t want to have to interact with Mac, who carries himself so easily through the world, especially now he’s out. Out Mac is someone Dennis is very jealous of, for various reasons he doesn’t want to think about right now.

Right now, Mac is annoying. Mac is infuriating. Mac is going to try and get him out of bed. Mac is going to try and make him take his meds. Mac is going to _care, _and Dennis hates it with every single fibre of his being.

“Dennis?” Mac asks again, and Dennis screws his eyes shut in pure frustration. “Are you going to get up?”

“Go away, Mac,” Dennis mumbles.

Mac stays put, of course. “Have you taken your meds today?” Dennis knows that Mac knows he hasn’t - the pills are in the kitchen, and Dennis has not made it out of bed.

“Fuck off.”

Dennis just want him to leave, but he’s not taking the hint. Usually, Mac will realise by now that there’s nothing to be done, and that Dennis just needs a personal day, but today he keeps pushing it. “Come on, Dennis, you should get up. Take a shower and you’ll feel better, bro.”

“_Take a shower_ _and I’ll feel better?” _Dennis says incredulously, his voice rising. He’s actually a little surprised that Mac thinks this is even a reasonable thing to say to him. He feels the rage bubble up inside of him. “Oh, because the fucking shower is going to make all my problems go away? What would you know, you idiot.”

“I don’t know, Den, I just think it would be good for you to get out of the house.” He rests a hand on Dennis’ duvet-covered shin.

Dennis immediately kicks him off and pulls his knees up to his chest. “And how do you know what’s good for me,” he spits. He’s still not looking at Mac, his face buried in his pillow, duvet covering nearly his entire head.

“Dennis…” Mac says, and he’s got this soft, sympathetic voice that makes Dennis’ skin crawl.

He doesn’t need this. Not today. He doesn’t need Mac’s sympathy. He needs Mac to get the fuck away from him. Dennis knows being downright nasty is the failproof way to get him to leave, and so he goes for it. He really fucking goes for it.

“You’re only here because you fucking get off on trying to help me and look after me. It’s fucking pathetic. What were you hoping, hmm? That one day I’ll give you what you want? That I’ll be your little gay princess that you look after, that I’ll suck your dick, that I’ll let you fuck me? You might as well keep that fucking sex doll around, because it’s never fucking happening. And you hanging around here trying to fill that hole inside you by mothering me, because it helps soothe the pain each day and because you feel like we’re actually fucking - I don’t know - boyfriends? Or some bullshit? You’re so fucking stupid, it’s ridiculous, Mac.”

He hears Mac’s sharp intake of breath, feels a dull pain in his chest at the reaction, wills it away. It’s a low blow. It’s not something he should ever say to Mac, especially now that Dennis is back from North Dakota, and after everything; the words that floated unsaid between the two of them as to the reason for Dennis’ return, implied but _never _properly discussed, the shared room in the apartment, the _fucking_ dildo bike, the amount of advances Mac has made towards him that he’s rejected without a second thought, as easy as swatting away a fly. Except Dennis can’t quite kill it. Mac keeps coming back, buzzing around and irritating him. And he just wants to be alone, so he can wallow in this emptiness, starve himself, and watch a fuck ton of shitty daytime television in peace and quiet.

“Why do you have to be such a dick?” Mac asks quietly, except it’s not really a question at all. Dennis definitely isn’t going to warrant him with an answer. Very distantly, Dennis knows he should care, knows that Mac is just trying to look out for him, that Mac just wants what is best for him. But all of that is overridden by just how much Dennis despises him in that moment, with his fucking reusable cups, his fucking home-made muscle shirts and his stupid physique that actually makes the muscle shirts look really fucking good and how much he just wants Mac to fuck off. He feels exhausted from what little they have already said to each other and he wants to be alone. Is that too much to ask?

Mac is waiting for an answer he’s not going to get. Dennis’ outburst seems to have done the trick as he feels the bed spring up again, no longer underneath Mac’s weight, and then the door shuts quietly.

_He could have at least slammed it. _

_ That’s not Mac’s style. _

Dennis manages to fall back to sleep and wakes up much later. The clock next to his bed tells him it’s nearly midday - hours have passed, and Mac will be long gone. Thank God.

He lies there, staring at the ceiling. As the seconds tick by, he starts to feel guiltier and guiltier. It wasn’t fair to say those things to Mac. Sure, the guy was fucking infuriating and if he walked through the door again right then and there, Dennis would have tried his best to get him to leave again, but that didn’t mean he deserved anything Dennis accused him of earlier. It was too close to home, and they don’t do close to home. They don’t talk about how they feel.

Dennis finally gets up and traipses through to the kitchen. Mac has cleaned - of course he has - and the room looks spotless, everything tidied away, apart from the box of pills that sit on the table.

On closer inspection, the box is sitting on top of a piece of paper, torn from a notebook, and on it are three lines of Mac’s handwriting.

_plz take ur meds_

_apples in fridge_

_im sorry_

There’s a flicker of _something_ among the emptiness. Dennis tries desperately to ignore it.

He heads to the fridge, and just like the note says, there is a decent sized tub of apple slices, all peeled and probably tossed in freshly squeezed lemon juice to keep them from going brown.

He hadn’t had breakfast, and his stomach is growling at him, and he’d planned on skipping lunch as well, but the apples look _so_ good and Dennis grabs the tub and a fork, and slinks onto the couch, turning on the TV to find a news channel. He sits cross legged and eats, and it feels fucking terrible but also fucking brilliant as he stuffs the apple slices into his mouth one by one, chewing slowly, shutting his eyes and just relishing each bite. 

As he eats, he reflects a bit more on what had happened.

The apples suddenly taste a lot like guilt.

Trying to escape those feelings, Dennis gets in the shower.

_This does not help._

_That’s a lie. _

Then he takes his meds, not because he knows it’s good for him, but because Mac wanted him to. And he hates admitting it, but Mac had been right about the shower. He still feels a bit empty, but his stomach is full and for once, the wave of self-loathing he usually gets after a meal doesn’t come.

Sitting on the couch, he lets the meds do their job, and the fog that surrounds his brain is clearing. In the end, it’s quite a productive day. He does a few loads of laundry, cleans up his room, not a bad effort for someone who couldn’t get out of bed barely a few hours ago. He allows himself to feel a little proud, and sits down on the couch to watch some television as a reward for his hard work. He even finishes off the apple slices.

He’s still in that spot when Mac comes home.

“You’re up,” Mac says when he sees Dennis sitting on the couch, fumbles trying to get his keys out of the door.

And for some reason, the clouds and the fog return hopelessly quickly, and suddenly, Dennis just doesn’t know what to say to him.

He knows he should apologise but he doesn’t know how to.

He doesn’t know how he deserves Mac.

Luckily for him, Mac _does_ know what to say. “Look, about earlier, I shouldn’t have pushed you. I just thought it would be good for you to do something today, but I was wrong, and I’m sorry I thought I knew what was best for you.”

_He’s apologising! It’s not your fault! _

_Bullshit. That should be you._

When Dennis still doesn’t reply, Mac’s eyebrows furrow slightly. He takes a step forwards, as if he’s about to come and sit with Dennis on the couch, but then it’s like he thinks better of it. And then he does something Dennis would never have expected. “Actually, you know what, bro, fuck that. You had no right to say what you said to me. After everything I’ve done for you…” Mac’s hands clench into fists by his sides, he grits his teeth, shuts his eyes for a second to ground himself, opens them again. “Fuck, okay, well, might as well go ahead with this. I… I made it _very _clear how I feel about you, Dennis. And you left, and that was okay, dude, I know you had to. But then you came back and all you’ve done since then is treat me like _shit_.”

The level of Mac’s self-awareness is a little scary. The fact that he’s here, admitting out loud to Dennis that he has feelings for him, is terrifying, and Dennis doesn’t think he’s ever seen Mac like this. He opens his mouth to reply, then realises he still doesn’t know what to say.

Mac ignores him, ploughs on determinedly, better at expressing his emotions verbally than Dennis could ever _dream _of being. It was ironic really. Dennis brought the words to their friendship_. _There was just one area he could never quite choke out. “How am I supposed to know what you want if you don’t know it yourself?” Mac says, and it’s clear he’s getting frustrated. “I can’t read your mind. I put in all this effort and maybe this is news to you, but that’s not just because I…” _Because I have feelings for you. _They both know what he wants to say, but he doesn’t say it, glances away from Dennis just for a split second, then carries on. “… because I’m gay, it’s because I care about you. As a friend, first. You’re my best friend, Dennis,” and his voice is cracking awfully, like he’s on the verge of tears.

Dennis wants to go to him, wants to hold him and make sure he’s okay. Deep down, he does. But head presides over heart, and Dennis does nothing.

“You’re my best friend,” Mac repeats, “and you treat me like shit! And I know you’re not okay, and that’s okay! Things get to you, but don’t take that out on me, bro. You came back and obviously… obviously I’ve changed too…” he trails off, the dance hanging unsaid in the air between them. He shakes his head slightly, as if trying to shake off the memory. “But I thought we would just go back to normal. Look, I know things have changed because…” And this time he does say it. “… because I have these feelings for you, and you know that, and you’ve made it pretty clear that you don’t feel the same way, but I don’t _care _about that! Well, I do, of course, but Dennis, everything’s changed. I didn’t think it would change how we are as friends. You’ve put me completely in the dark about where we stand, and I hate it and I just want things to go back to the way they were. You never used to be mean like you were this morning. I just want my best friend back.”

Still, Dennis says nothing. Mac’s staring at him, waiting for any semblance of a reply, of acknowledgement, of any recognition that Mac has just laid his heart out on the table for Dennis.

It doesn’t come.

It doesn’t come, and Mac loses it.

“Fuck, Dennis, are you literally incapable of feeling or caring about anything apart from yourself!”

It’s a heavy blow. Dennis knows it because despite what Mac says, he _can feel _and right now his heart is fucking breaking because he _cares_. He cares about _Mac_. Mac knows it too, Dennis can tell because his expression instantly changes, the anger and frustration slide off his face, replaced by guilt, remorse, and _hurt_. “Shit, Dennis, I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

_Hurt_. God, what were they doing to each other?

_Hurt. _Because when Mac hurts Dennis, he hurts too. Maybe even more. And that means… that means that every time Mac does something dumb, does something that clearly pisses Dennis off, it hurts him. And all the times Dennis has blown up in a rage, has rejected him in the harshest way possible, the pain Mac feels is only compounded by the pain he inflicts on himself.

Dennis will never be able to compete with how earnest Mac is, how loving he is, how proudly he wears his heart on his sleeve. He puts up with Dennis the way no one else does. Not Frank, who is strongly in the running for a Worst Father of the Century award. Not Charlie, who does put up with Dennis, but often with the help of some sort of solvent. Not even Dee, who literally entered the world with him. And after all that, after all this time, Dennis is _still_ hurting Mac, hurting the one person who really loves him. Dennis feels overcome with this burning self-hatred, not the usual type about his looks, his body, but about his character. The way he has treated Mac so poorly, after everything this man has done for him. This man loves him, despite _everything _that Dennis is. Dennis already knew he couldn’t live without Mac, that much had been established in North Dakota. But now, things are taking a different turn. Mac’s here, loud and proud and not the slightest bit ashamed of himself, and telling Dennis he loves him, telling Dennis that he’ll _always_ love him, no matter what. It’s not his fault Dennis is an emotionless wreck devoid of almost all feelings…

_Almost. _

There’s something true and good about him and Mac. Dennis has always known that. Right from the moment he’d met the kid with the misfortune of being named Ronald McDonald by his scumbag of a father, he knew that he and Mac shared something.

_Almost all feelings. _

It’s true. He doesn’t feel much these days. The meds go both ways - they help him feel more, and they help him feel less. It all balances out and Dennis knows he still the husk of a normal emotionally functioning adult. But, especially since he came back from North Dakota, he’s started to _feel _more.

_Fuck Mac. What did he know?_

_ Everything._

Mac knows his favourite song.

Mac knows how Dennis likes his coffee. And his tea.

Mac knows his allergies.

Mac knows that Dennis wanted an RPG.

Mac knows to pick up Dennis’ meds from the pharmacy because Dennis is forgetful or just plain stubborn and won’t do it himself.

Mac knows how to get him to eat.

Mac knows all his takeaway orders.

Mac knows his favourite beer.

Mac knows how important it is that he puts on makeup every day and doesn’t take the piss out of him for it like the rest of the Gang.

Mac knows how to get him off crack.

Mac knows that he can only sleep if there’s a window open.

Mac knows how important it is for Dennis to win when they play any sort of silly game.

Mac knows what to say to calm him down.

Mac knows how to make Dennis smile.

Mac knows him.

And Dennis knows he’s the one who has been so fucking stupid.

He meets Mac’s gaze for a second, then turns away, staring at the television. He can’t look at Mac, not when suddenly everything seems a little bit clearer.

And he’s aware of the fact that Mac thinks he’s still mad. He hears Mac’s voice go up about an octave as he stumbles over his apologies. “Dennis, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant to say. I know you have feelings. I’m sorry.” It gives Dennis this horrible ache in his chest, but he needs a second to collect himself, to make sure he wants to do what he’s about to do.

Finally, he gets to his feet, and walks over to where Mac is standing by the door, keys still clutched in his hand. The words are stuck in Dennis’ throat, but he chokes them out. “I _feel._” And he reaches for Mac’s hand. He half expects Mac to recoil, but the other man just stares down in what looks like disbelief as Dennis clasps his hand. It’s not like they’re holding hands, more that Dennis is holding Mac’s hand like he’d hold something he’d just picked up, but Dennis can see how much it means to him. Mac’s features immediately soften, his lips turning upwards into a smile, this horrible little hopeful expression forming, the one he always gets when Dennis lets too much of his real feelings show, when he slips and gives Mac reason to believe that all his dreams just might come true.

Dennis slowly lifts Mac’s hand up until it’s in the air between them, and then he brings both their hands against his chest, flattening Mac’s palm over his heart. When he takes his own hand away, Mac’s stays right there, right over his heart, normal as anything. He knows Mac can feel just how quickly it is beating.

“I _fucking_ feel.” Dennis says, and for a second, he’s embarrassed at how upset he sounds, tries to mask it, but then he realises he doesn’t care. Mac deserves to see how upset he is. Mac deserves to see what he’s _done _to Dennis. It’s his fault. This dumb, bumbling idiot of a man, who thinks he can do karate, who makes Dennis shakes and peels and cuts his apple slices just how he likes them, who _cares about him. _

He looks up and meets Mac’s gaze, finally. The other man’s lips are parted slightly, his eyebrows arched in shock. He looks rather silly, Dennis has thought that ever since Mac got all ripped and shit, it defined his facial features so much that any expression he wore looked almost comical. Then a look of realisation dawns on Mac’s face - he can feel Dennis’ heart beating so fast, so strong, and Dennis wants him to know it’s all for _him, _everything is for Mac_ -_ “Oh.” Mac’s voice is barely louder than a whisper.

And it’s one word, not even a word really, just a sound, but Dennis knows what he means.

First, he feels the cold wash of relief that he’s managed to convey what he feels, that Mac _gets_ him. He shouldn’t have had any doubts really, Mac always understands him. This was important though, and Dennis was terrified Mac wouldn’t.

Then, it’s just Mac. It’s always been Mac. And Dennis feels like he’s on fire.

There’s this godawful warmth that spreads from the spot where Mac has his hand, and the fire roars and rages through Dennis. He glances down, half expecting there to be a hole burnt into his t-shirt, but it’s _just_ _Mac_. Just the way it’s always been - Dennis and Mac. Mac and Dennis. Mac’s hand on his chest. The overwhelming urge to kiss him.

And with that comes the realisation that Dennis never had a hope in hell of _not_ falling in love with Mac. It absolutely fucking floors him. He wants to sink to his knees in front of Mac and beg forgiveness, worship this beautiful man, wax lyrical about how much he’s in _love _with this stupid idiot, throw himself at Mac’s feet because it’s _what he deserves_ -

Something keeps him standing upright. Mac slowly squeezes his hand into a fist, grabbing some of Dennis’s shirt in the process, and Dennis almost loses his mind.

When he finally presses his lips against Mac’s, it feels like coming home.

_What do you want, Dennis? _

_This._

And Mac is kissing him back so eagerly, and Dennis knows it’s because he’s wanted this for so long, and then his hands find Dennis’ waist and Dennis almost dies in his arms.

It hurts more than Dennis thought it would when Mac breaks away from him. His eyes wide, pupils huge and dark and Dennis can hardly see any of the brown of his eyes, lips _sinfully _red and wet and Dennis hates to think it’s his fault they haven’t been doing this for the past twenty odd years. Mac’s hands are still on Dennis’ waist. Dennis doesn’t want him to ever let go.

“I’m sorry,” Mac says.

“Stop apologising.”

“I can’t.”

“It’s okay. I…” Why don’t apologies run off his tongue as easily as they do Mac’s? “I shouldn’t have said what I said this morning. So… sorry. I’m sorry too.”

_Stunted, but not a bad effort._

“For everything,” Dennis adds.

_Better._

And this time Mac kisses him and if he had thought the RPG was the thing he’d wanted the most in the world, this definitely blew it all out of the water. Mac’s mouth is warm and it tastes like beer, a weird combination, but it’s fucking amazing and Dennis can’t get enough of it.

He doesn’t realise he’s crying until they break apart. Tears fall in a silent cascade down his cheeks.

“Are you okay, Den?” Mac asks.

Dennis waves a hand, aiming for nonchalance and missing by a country mile. “S’just…” he trails off, falls quiet and doesn’t complete the sentence for a little while.

“Overwhelming,” he finally settles on a word. Overwhelming, because his heart is alight in a way he’s never experienced before.

Later, much later, they’re wrapped up in each other’s arms in Mac’s bed - Dennis wonders why they didn’t choose _his _bed, but that’s beside the point now.

“I can’t promise that I’ll be the same tomorrow,” Dennis says quietly, twisting in Mac’s embrace so that they’re looking at each other.

“That’s okay. You’ll still be you tomorrow,” Mac replies, smiling.

Dennis highly doubts that, because even after 40 years of damned existence, he still doesn’t know who he is. But he tries to smile back, because Mac needs to know he’s willing to try, God damnit, he’s willing to fight for this. “I hope so.”

Mac leans in and kisses him quickly, a glancing peck against Dennis’ lips that leaves him craving more again. “That’s all I want,” Mac says gently. “I just want you, Dennis.” He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, and Dennis realises that maybe it is. Maybe him and Mac is the only easy thing he’ll ever know.

Everything will get easier, he knows that. This helps. Despite this being uncharted territory to him, he takes comfort in the fact that this is one thing that’s not really going to change. Mac is going to look after him, just like he always has.

And Dennis will get better. He knows that from the way Mac’s arms tighten slightly around him, the way his bare legs are tangled with Dennis’, the way that Mac’s lips press kisses on the back of his neck. As long as Mac’s there, he’s going to get better.

_Be patient. _

_Okay._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! kudos and comments very much appreciated
> 
> you can find me at babyboymac.tumblr.com


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